


You Shall Not

by HurtByTenderLies



Category: Sweeney Todd (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurtByTenderLies/pseuds/HurtByTenderLies
Summary: Italics are not yet inputted, many apologies





	

**Author's Note:**

> Italics are not yet inputted, many apologies

**You Shall Not**

 

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own Sweeney Todd or the associated characters._

He'd come down to her shop sometimes, to share her bed. For the night, maybe a few hours. It was entirely up to Sweeney, because Nellie would do anything for him if he asked.

It was one of the mornings where Sweeney woke up in her bed alone. He usually liked to leave before she awoke, but in rare occasions he overslept. Looking over at the clock he realized it was only 4:30 AM. Where could she have gone this early? He shrugged and stood from the bed, pulling on his trousers and slipping his shirt on before buttoning it. He realized he probably needed his shirts washed again. Sweeney supposed he ought to tell her to clean them. That would require him to seek her out… With an irritated sigh, he wandered away from the bedroom- hearing some noise coming from the bathroom. Deciding to investigate, he came closer and pressed his ear up to the door. He wrinkled his nose when he heard a gag. She was throwing up. He paid no mind, for it didn't concern him any.

She coughed a few times, and deciding his issue was more important than her being sick, he knocked on the door.

“Mrs. Lovett? Are you alright?” He asked, though he wouldn't care much for her answer.

Sweeney twisted the handle, finding it was locked. She never locked the door…

“Don't come in.” She warned, “I'm not decent.”

When was she ever?

“I need my shirts washed. And breakfast.” He growled, “Open the door.”

The was a pause and silence as she didn't answer, but after a short time, there was shuffling and the lock clicked. He opened the door, almost hitting her with it.

“You're ill?” He asked casually.

“I'm not sure.” She said truthfully.

“Then what?” He asked darkly.

“Mr. T… Sweeney…” She couldn't find words.

“Tell me.”

“Well, we started… This a while back.” Nellie said carefully.

She crossed her arms over her naked chest, feeling tears fill her eyes.

“You need not hide from me Mrs. Lovett.” He said pushing her arms away.

She put them down and looked away. He'd surely notice…

“Have you grown?” He wondered, looking her over.

She closed her eyes so the lingering tear wouldn't fall.

“Yes. I've gotten bigger…” She sniffled.

“Why are you crying?” He asked impatiently.

“You haven't gotten it?”

“You're not-” He started, eyes narrowed.

“Yes.” She ended lamely.

He grabbed her arm and threw her out of the room aggressively.

“Get dressed. Go make food and clean, whatever else you do. This changes nothing.” He growled as he stormed out of the room.

Nellie let her tears flow freely down her face.

He came back later, after she had done all her chores. Most would call them wifely. However, Sweeney had no intention to marry her. They were just fine the the way they were, and what's it to him if she had a bastard child? It could be by anyone, the public might think.

She had poured him a glass of gin when he first entered and sat down at a table. Feeling a sudden wave of negative emotion, he took the glass and threw it hard on the ground, watching the sharp pieces spread around the floor. It wasn't satisfying enough. He needed more.

With one thing in his head, he paced smoothly to her room and walked in without knocking. She was in front of a mirror, looking at her changing body. When the door swung open, she looked at him from the mirror, hands over her stomach. He looked her over once.

She shivered under his gaze, her eyes following him without moving her head.

She was nervous.

He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? He already said nothing had changed. Not even as she carried his child.

“Do you need something?” She asked quietly, her arms falling to her sides.

He was silent for a while.

“You've never… Done this, correct?”

“Well… Once, years ago. It didn't work out. I got very sick…” She replied shakily, wringing her hands together.

He shook his head, as if clearing that he cared.

“There's glass on the floor.”

She sighed and tucked a strand of wild, curly hair that had escaped behind her ear.

“I'll do it.”

“Come back here after.” He ordered.

“No.” She said simply, voice wavering.

“What was that?” In only a second he stood in front of her.

“I-I don't feel like it. Not tonight.” She whispered, looking down.

“What?” He asked venomously.

“No.” She said boldly, immediately feeling stupid after.

He raised his hand, like he was going to smack her. Out of instinct, she grabbed his wrist and slapped him in the face. Nellie regretted her decision when he loomed over her.

“You shall not hit me!” She shouted, yet cowered in fear, “You shall not tell me what to do anymore, nor will you dare to force me to do something I don't want!”

“You're forgetting who's in charge, Mrs. Lovett.” He said thoughtfully, flicking open his razor and holding it up to the light.

Sweeney switched his gaze to her, still holding his razor up. She stared up at him with watery eyes, as he did the opposite of what she had said and was seemingly going to stab the sharp silver into her body.

On a sudden thought, he closed the razor and sat it down on a vanity, pointing to the bed.

“Go. You'll clean the glass later.” He commanded.

She didn't want to. But she obeyed the orders. Soon enough she would want it, after feeling him again. He knew that, and he could take it to his advantage.

She stood by the bed and started to remove her dress and corset, while he strode to the door and closed the wood, locking the knob. When she was done, he was already back, hurrying to push her onto the mattress.

She whined in protest, but as he moved on,nothing else came from her. She closed her eyes, in pleasure or disgust, he wasn't sure. He wasn't doing what the judge had done, he thought. Because she wanted it.

She was pressed hard into the bed, maybe hurting her, by the look on her face. She made a high pitched noise in the back of her throat.

“Shh.”

She was flipped over now, and he was stroking her hair- not fondly, possessively. She screamed when her stomach muscles hurt from the pressure.

“Sweeney! The baby!” Water filled her eyes when he didn't let up, “Please, Sweeney…”

As if her words finally hit him, he looked down and moved, to give her more room.

She gasped, breathing clean air, rather than the oxygen she had been forced to take in at least twice. Nellie was jumping up to her high after, and then he was too. He slipped off, next to her, on his back, and she stared at him. She wasn't sure what to do. Then he pulled her close to him, invading her space. She loved it. However, it was short lived.

“Lucy…” He whispered, making her heart hurt.

She stood from the bed, emotions twisted in her body. Her stomach felt like it was rolling, so she went to the bathroom, and as soon as her feet hit the floor, the contents were emptied.

A few more gags and throw up later, she was sitting on the ground, rubbing her red eyes with her hands.

“I can't do this. I can't… Jesus, why did you leave me here alone?” She spoke.

Nellie breathed hard, hyperventilating, feeling light headed and with an immense ache in her head.

She cleaned the mess afterwards, then settled with sitting on the bed next to Sweeney. He was breathing evenly, sleeping. God knew he needed the rest. Nellie stroked his hair and sighed. She put her hands on the mattress to help give a momentum to push her up, but something grabbed her around the waist. She groaned as her weight was pulled down. Sweeney was holding her, but now, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to be touched- the complete opposite of what was normal. He had just called her Lucy. But it was more likely her emotions raging from the pregnancy.

Growling, she removed his arm and once again tried to stand. She found his grip tighter now, bruising.

“Stay.” He whispered in her ear.

She nodded reluctantly, closing her eyes, a lump in her throat. She loved him so much. What did Nellie get in return? Not so much as a ‘thank you’. Some rough sex, maybe. But he didn't care, because it was on his time, only when he wanted it. She didn't matter, even if she did all the cleaning and cooking and caring and tending to all his needs. Where would he be now, without her? If she left?

Nellie said nothing, staring up at the ceiling sadly, pretending in place of the wood were bright and shining stars. He'd come around. She hoped.

* * *

 

“How far along are you?” A girl at the market asked Nellie.

“Uh… Six… Months.” She breathed tiredly, putting her hand on her forehead.

The woman smiled at her.

“Really? You look much less. But trust me, it's great, to finally meet your little one.” She said cheerfully, taking the hand of a young boy and waving before walking away.

Nellie sighed wistfully and made to get some ingredients for dinner- a nice stew, which she had been planning for days. A treat. Along the way, she looked through all the stands, finding something she wanted desperately- toffee candy. How she wanted them… Shaking her head, she walked along, finding all she needed, and returning home.

Her stomach wasn't very big. In fact, it was very small for how long she had been pregnant. Nellie set her hand over her tummy and smiled, feeling the baby shift. It was okay. The baby would be just fine.

She collected herself and went to make the food. When she turned around to go, her heart jumped in her chest.

“Mr. T! You gave me such a fright!” She exclaimed, hand in her chest.

“The child is well?” He asked blankly, though she could sense his emotions well. Nervous?

“Oh, yes. It just moved. A fine little one it'll be...” She trailed off.

She gasped when she felt his hand ghost over stomach. His touch continued to grow in light pressure until he could feel the baby if it moved. There was a little action that the baby made, and Sweeney pulled his hand away shaking it, as if he had been burned. Nellie frowned and shook her head, continuing on to make their meal.

“I know it's hard, Mr. T. You can't hide from it forever, love. Only a few more months.”

“I don't have to be reminded.” He said darkly, stalking out of the shop, probably retreating to his cave.

“I swear, he's as moody as me…” Nellie bit the inside of her cheek.

* * *

 

Mrs. Lovett sat by the fire with a book in her lap, drifting off to sleep. She was jolted awake when she felt a presence near her.

“Toby, Love? What's the matter, now?” She asked, beckoning him over.

He walked over to and sat down next to her.

“I've been noticing some strange things, Ma'am. About Mr. Todd, y’see.”

“Don't be silly, Toby. He's been so good to us.” She said innocently.

“I know it, Ma'am!”

“Shh, it's okay, Love.” She pulled his head to her chest, feeling a lump in her throat.

She hated it. Hated that Toby cared enough to tell her, but loved him for just so. She'd saved him from his horrible master, and raised him for months, treating him as if he was her son.

“How's about I show the the bake house? You've always wanted to see it. Now’s the time, I suppose.” She whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“Of course, Ma'am! I'd like that! Help you more with the shop, right?” He asked excitedly.

“Yes. Alright, let's get to it, then!” It was weak when she tried to answer him.

He turned to run to the stairs leading down. She followed behind him, her eyes glazed with fresh tears.

They reached it, finally, and she instructed him on how to work everything properly. He was happy to help, nearly bouncing with joy.

“Alright, I'll leave you to it. Good work, son.” It might’ve been the last time she'd ever uttered those words.

She left, closing and locking the large metal door behind her.

He had the judge. Right in the chair where he wanted him! Sweeney clenched his jaw as he stabbed the razor into his neck many a time. He'd waited so long… Sweeney put his foot on the pedal, his face covered in Turpin’s blood. He smirked, ready to put his silver friends to rest…

Then she screamed. He jumped from his position and rushed down to see what happened. She stood near the Judge's body, dragging the beggar to the oven. Mrs. Lovett looked pathetic, trying to haul the other woman.

“Open the door.” He gestured to the large furnace, pulling his sleeves up.

She stared at him, and he in turn aggressively commanded, “Open the door, I said!”

She looked at him, worried- he wondered what for- and went to oblige him. It was gaping now, as he bent to drag the lady, he stopped. The light hit her hair, dirty and matted. Yellow, through even all the grime. He noticed this immediately, brushing it out of her face.

Lucy, his beautiful Lucy… She lied to him! Mrs. Lovett lied. She deserved to suffer, a fate worse than death.

“You knew she lived…” He whispered.

“I was only thinking of you!” She defended.

“You lied to me…” He got louder.

“I never lied! Said she took the poison, never said she died!” She exclaimed.

He stood up fast, and she backed up, her eyes wide. Sweeney beckoned her over with his hands.

“I'm sorry…” She was tense.

“Come here, my love.” He faked his voice cheerfully.

“No…” Nellie stopped when she was near the front of the furnace.

“You said yourself, learn forgiveness. We can forget, move on.”

“Yes… Yes, Mr. T!”

Sweeney smiled and set her up for a waltz.

“Yes, my dear.” He whispered in her ear.

They neared the oven, without her noticing. That was what he thought. Nellie was no stupid woman. She looked at him, with the rarest love she had given only twice more. 

“You shall push me in, I see it.”

They danced until... He did.

The heat burned her skin, leaving awful burns and stinging pain. Nellie screamed as her flesh got hotter and hotter… Until she could scream no more. He last thought was not of Mr. Todd, but of their child- their little girl.

Lord keep her safe.

Sweeney exhaled, falling to his knees and cradled Lucy in his lap.

“Lucy…” He sang, hanging his head.

He looked up when he heard something- the baby crying. It wasn't Johanna. He wanted it to be. He wanted to be Benjamin again, with his Lucy and his little lamb, Johanna.

What should he do? He couldn't leave his wife… He wouldn’t leave her here, alone, in the darkness, on the floor.

His child, his second daughter, only just three months old. Her red hair, bright, and dark eyes. She was something. But now, she must be nothing. Last place in his life, the innocence, the purity of her, soft and sweet. It didn't count.

He heard a noise behind him and kept his head up. Sweeney knew well who it was, and he knew Toby would kill him.

Sweeney’s throat was slit all by the boy who had just witnessed his mother be pushed into the furnace.

Toby sat close to the furnace and wiped his teary eyes. His mum, his amazing, caring, wonderful woman was gone. He needed to take care of the baby for her… Toby ran to the door, finding it had shut itself. He was locked in. From the outside.

In the end, the baby wailed and cried, right until the light of two mornings past. Then silence.

 


End file.
